


Innamorata - Guessing Games

by supersoakerx



Series: Innamorata [1]
Category: The Man Who Killed Don Quixote (2018)
Genre: Drunk!Toby, F/M, Light Angst, Phone Sex, voluptuous!Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:33:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26301982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersoakerx/pseuds/supersoakerx
Summary: Toby is filming a commercial on location in Spain; he calls you because he misses you terribly.
Relationships: Toby Grisoni/Reader, Toby Grisoni/You, Toby Grummett/Reader, Toby Grummett/You
Series: Innamorata [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911028
Comments: 9
Kudos: 28





	Innamorata - Guessing Games

In the elevator, Toby sways where he stands. He’s trying to find your number in his phone. The porter eyes him wearily—it’s after midnight, and not the first time Mr Grisoni has needed to be escorted back to his room. Not that he’s usually aware of it.

“Fuckin’ shit,” Toby grumbles, then louder he says at the phone, “Siri… Jesus fuck, _Siri_ ,” and the porter winces as the two-tone chime finally responds. “Call- _tes-o-ri-na_ ,” Toby says loudly and slowly.

“ _‘Calling tesorina,’_ ” intones the robotic voice, and over the top of it Toby grumbles, “thank fuckin’ Christ,” and leans against the wall, tipping his head back.

When you pick up, it’s like he can finally, genuinely breathe.

“There you are,” you murmur huskily. “Hi, baby.”

No matter what time of day or night—not that he knows the time where you are, or even where he is—you always seem to be ready for him. Toby swears he’ll never stop marvelling at that. He sighs your name, tugging apart his scarf, “I miss you.”

“I know, darling,” you say, “just a few more days and you can fly back to m—,”

“These people are all fuckin’ hacks.”

“They’re doing their best, Toby, you know your standards are hi—,”

“All just measuring the size of their fuckin’ dicks.”

“Oh, baby, you know you’d win that one, no contest—,”

“Do you miss me too?”

“Yes, Toby,” you breathe. He’s hearing your voice, but not listening to your words, and speaking so fast his tongue isn’t wrapping around words properly. This is not altogether a sober Toby. “My love, I miss you, too.” But it’s a Toby who needs you—always.

He lets your words hang in the air for a beat, then drops his baritone voice lower. “How much do you miss me, baby?”

The porter rolls his eyes, and is relieved to glance up and see they will soon arrive at Mr Grisoni’s floor.

Toby doesn’t know where exactly you are, or what exactly you’re doing, but he hears some shuffling and rustling before your breathy voice crackles through the phone again. “I miss you so much it hurts, Toby.”

The elevator slows to a stop and the doors slide open with a soft _ding_. The porter makes to leave first but Toby claps him on the arm, mutters, “hey, _thanks_ , man,” and glides out of the carriage. He swirls and presses the ‘down’ button on the outside to send the elevator back to the lobby, smiling a shit-eating grin and waving a patronising goodbye to the shocked porter as the doors close.

“Tell me where it hurts, _tesorina_.” Toby holds the phone between his ear and shoulder as he staggers down the corridor, padding down his jacket and pockets to find his room key. “Or better, let me guess.”

You hum a quiet laugh. “Ok, alright. Three guesses, Toby.”

“Three? Mmhkay… your toes,” Toby says, fumbling the key card and jamming it in all the wrong ways before he lucks out and unlocks the door with a _click_.

Your giggle is melodic. “Nuh-uh. Wrong.”

“No? Hmm,” hums Toby, slipping inside the hotel room. He stumbles over his own feet to kick his loafers off, and shrugs off his jacket and scarf, letting the trill of your soft laugh wash over him. “What about… your knees?”

“Getting warmer,” you say, and he can hear the smile in your sweet voice. “Only one guess left, Toby.”

He’d move mountains to have you in his bed, to sleep next to you tonight. “My God, I want you,” he growls, running his palm over his still clothed but stiffening length. His watch clinks against his belt buckle. “What are you wearing?”

“Oh, Tobias!” you scoff, knowing what the well-timed use of his full name does to him. “Why start a game if you don’t want to play it?”

“Hmmh, trust me, baby. I want to play,” Toby murmurs. He holds the phone in the crook of his neck again, and struggles to unbutton his white shirt. Did the fuckin’ buttons get smaller since he got dressed this morning? “I want to spread those legs and play with you until you beg me to stop.”

“Mm, is that your final answer, Toby?” you croon in the way that makes his knees weak, running a hand down the round of your belly and dipping your fingers between your folds, nudging them against your clit. “That’s where I miss you most, between my legs?”

Toby groans, unbuckling his belt and shucking off his ivory slacks. “Tell me, tell me it is, _tesorina_.” He settles back on the bed, clad in nothing but the tight black trunks he grips his cock through, his other hand holding the phone to his ear. “Tell me, baby, please.”

You sigh his name, and a jolt of arousal flares up his spine, tingles in his gut, making his cock even harder—even _thicker_.

“I miss you so much,” your voice is hushed, breathless, “I _throb_ for you. Do you know that, Toby? I dream about you fucking me—,”

Toby sucks in a breath through his teeth, prising his thick member free from its confines and squeezing, tugging on it.

“—about how you watch me—all of me, while you do it—and how how you make me cum.”

Toby’s mind is flooded with images, some like little movies, and his voice is deep when he says, “are you alone?”

A pause. Then, “yes.”

“I want to bounce you on my cock,” Toby blurts, gripping his dick tight, making long, slow strokes with his fist. “Hnnh, baby, I want to watch your b-big, beautiful tits bounce in my face, want to ssuck on them, want to feel your pretty pussy hug me tight.”

“ _Tohhby_ ,” you sigh, two fingers slipping through your slick folds and around your clit, “I’m so-so—,”

Toby starts to pant, jerking his cock faster.

“—wet,” you whisper, and he _groans_.

Toby pictures your glistening pussy so perfectly in his mind. He licks his lips. “ _Tesorina_ , m-my _tesorina_ , ffuck my cock is so fuckin’ hard,” he spits into his hand, fists his fat length again, “G-God, I wish your wet little pussy was wrapped around me.”

“Around your big, long, thick cock, baby?” You drag the words out for him, getting him real riled up. On the phone Toby's voice was always deeper, darker, every breath and sigh amplified.

“ _Yes_ ,” he chokes out, his brow furrowing, “got such a big cock for you, _tesorina_ , all for you, all yours. Fuck,” he groans your name.

“Last night I had a dream that I sucked that big cock, baby,” you pant.

“ _Jesusshit_ ,” Toby stutters, “you—,”

“I took all of it, Toby-you came so big, and I swallowed it _all_ , right down my throat.”

“Aahhfuck,” he groans, and a big glob of cum pearls at the tip of his dick. “A-and the n-night before?” he gasps over his words, fisting his cock furiously.

“Night before I dreamt you were fucking me from behind,” you gasp as your fingertips rub your clit, “spanking me and holding a vibe to my clit.”

“F-fucking-Christ!” Toby shudders, bucking up into his fist. His eyes flutter closed and he pictures the soft flesh of your backside jiggling and bouncing from the slam of his hips. “Like before I left?”

“Ahhuh, just like that.”

“Ohh, _baby_ ,” he groans, “I love that fuckin’ ass, miss watching that fat ass fuck me, miss squeezing those cheeks in my bare hands.”

“When you get back you better split me in two on that big dick,” you murmur, your fingers slipping and sliding over your clit.

“Shhhiit,” Toby’s voice goes soft and quiet, almost a whisper, replaced by the slapping sound of his fist on his dick. “ _Tesorina_ , baby, I’m close.” _slap-slap-slap_

“I know, Toby,” you pant, “m-me too, mmy clit—,”

“’s that little thing all stiff and hard for me?”

“ _Yes_ , oh Toby, yes,” you moan, your orgasm building too too fast, and Toby’s dick throbs in his palm.

“Ffuck,” he hisses, “wanna feel you cum on my cock— _Godd_ ,” he groans, as your moans get shorter, louder; he knows you’re about to lose it. “Shhit baby, ‘f you keep going I’m gonna cum all ov-over mmyself,” Toby’s breath catches, his voice stutters as he rapidly loses grip on reality.

“Toby… _Toby_ ,” you groan, barely able to hold on any longer.

His toes curl, calves and thighs tensing, stomach clenching tight. Toby gasps your name, “please baby— _f-fuck_ —let me hear you cum.”

“ _Fuck_!” you cry out, your orgasm rippling through your body in hot, roiling waves. You cry his name, curse, wail nonsense as shuddering bliss overtakes you.

“Ouhhmmff-fuck,” Toby groans, fisting the base of his cock tight as his orgasm overwhelms him. He grunts through the waves of pleasure, feeling every twitch and pulse of his dick, and every spurt of cum that lands on his abs and chest. There’s so much, he imagines he’s filling you up with it, until there’s too much and it seeps out around his cock.

“Shit, shit,” you pant, catching your breath.

“ _Tesorina_ ,” Toby mumbles, his head lolling back on the sumptuous pillows, his sticky hand falling to his thigh. He breathes a deep and contented sigh into the phone, his head starting to spin.

“Toby,” your voice is groggy, but tinged with warning. The last time he fell asleep like this it was bad news the next day. “Do you have any meetings in the morning? Does Rupert know your schedu—,”

“Meet me,” Toby breathes, “come to Ávila.” He grabs his crumpled button-up shirt, haphazardly wiping away the mess he made—in his stupor, he doesn’t get all of it.

You blink, clearing the hazy afterglow for good and all, preparing to deal with _this_ now. “Toby,” you sigh, “you know I can’t do that.”

“Yes! Yes, you _can_!” his voice rises.

“Toby!” you huff a breath, kneading your forehead with the heel of your palm. It’s not the first time he’s done this—and not the first time on this particular job, either.

Toby pauses, sets his jaw. There’s a few breaths of silence. “I know. I know you can’t.” He swallows thickly.

“Don’t make this harder, my love,” you say softly, and Toby sighs. “Fourteen days, Toby. That’s all.”

He sniffs. “Ahh, this is fuckin’ bullshit.”

You hear something like ice and glass clinking in the background. “Get some sleep,” you say over the top of it, “it must be late there.” There’s a few moments’ pause, a sound like maybe he’s just taken a sip of something. Then—

“Darling?” It’s too quiet for him, and Toby’s got to make sure you’re still there.

“Yes?”

“I love you, _tesorina_ ,” Toby murmurs. He sniffs. More clinking.

“I love you, Tobias,” you say—and the line disconnects.


End file.
